


Cognisance

by Leyenn



Series: Untitled Susan/John [1]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never get caught in the act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cognisance

**Author's Note:**

> Post-_A Day In The Strife_.

The trouble with Babylon 5, Susan Ivanova considered thoughtfully, was that nothing was ever as simple as it should rightfully have been. Little things that should have been easy suddenly became monumental tasks, only really worthy of completion for the sheer determination factor of _not giving up_. Little things like transport union negotiations, for instance, or surviving that day's round of alien mind games, or reprogramming someone's shower preferences from comfortably tropical to something a little more arctic...

"_*Access denied,*_" the computer repeated. She rolled her eyes.

"Got that, thanks," she muttered back under her breath. The computer bleeped helpfully. She sighed.

"I have got to be insane." How she'd gotten from idly contemplating the best way to vent her frustration with the Captain to somehow crouching down on her knees in the corner of his rather compact bathroom - which was not any bigger than her own, although disappointingly, a little more tidy - was a progression that somehow managed to escape her.

The problem, on a fundamentally practical level, was the number of idiocy-inspired safeguards on the cabin's isolated systems: after six hours of poking and prodding via her BabCom unit, she'd acquiesced to the idea that those circuits simply made it impossible to hack successfully without physically getting a hand in the wiring, as it were. The professional in the back of her mind (fairly far back, right now) actually approved wholeheartedly of the entire process, and was even oddly comforted by how much work seemed to be involved in sabotaging her commanding officer's personal affairs.

The sneak currently in control of her slightly grubby hands just wished the computer would roll over and play nice puppy already.

She tweaked another circuit and took a quick look at the readout. The trick, the real trick which elevated this particular prank to the stakes of genius, was to arrange it so that even as ice water came hammering out, the helpful monitor in the wall cheerfully continued to insist on a comfortable hundred and four degrees - and that even if the unlucky recipient of said prank attempted to alter the settings manually, it would be on pure guesswork since everything would still appear absolutely normal. It was, in fact, one of her favorite and best-learned lessons of her final year at the Academy, aside from acing pilot training.

Eventually of course, Sheridan would be forced to bring in the maintenance team, who would probably take the panel apart and spot immediately where she'd been tinkering. With the right technician, her handiwork could be fixed in a matter of minutes, which was part of the beauty of it all.

If she could just get the damn thing to work in the first place.

"After the day I've had, this should be _easy_." She ran a hand quickly through her hair. "Okay. Almost got it. Just-"

The sound of a door hissing open halted her mid-thought, mid-word, and in fact, mid-breath.

_Shit._

She'd been _sure_ he wasn't due off duty for another two hours, even if he did decide to come straight back to his quarters. She hadn't graduated with a sparkling A in mischief without having a good grasp of the fundamentals. One, have a thoroughly worked out plan of the prank from beginning to end; two, be prepared to straight-face with the best of the mess hall the morning after; and three, the point on which the whole damn thing hinged, _make absolutely certain you're not caught in the act_.

The sounds of movement in the other room about put paid to that idea. She swore, although only in her head, and - very carefully, and even more quietly - edged her hand back out of the machinery. No way was she going to try and get this thing to work now, or he was sure to hear her. Very carefully, she edged the wall panel back up, holding her breath as it clicked back into place.

She held herself still for a minute or two after that and listened carefully over the thud of her own heartbeat in the enclosed room. He didn't seem to have heard her. Maybe if she stayed in here quietly, he'd leave again soon. She'd been sure he wasn't due off duty...

Another familiar noise started up in the other room, and she sighed. _So much for that idea_. Sheridan never bothered with ISN if he could help it, even though he, like most of the command staff, made the forced effort to watch at least one news cycle a day, painful though it usually was. She sincerely doubted he'd have the news on as background noise if he weren't sticking around for at least a while, especially since watching it generally put him in a mood foul enough that she'd called him on it in the middle of C&amp;C more than once in the last few months.

Maybe, if he was distracted, she'd have the chance to slip out into the main room and at least make a half-decent attempt to pretend she'd just come in without him noticing. He knew she knew his lock code, and part of her mind was already considering what errand would be urgent enough for her to come right in without so much as buzzing the door. Something slightly personal would have to be it - her concern for why he was off duty early, for instance.

_Why is he home early, anyway?_ She'd checked and double checked the duty schedules before planning precisely when to do this. Damn him for managing to sneak around her!

She wondered what was important enough to send him out of C&amp;C a full two hours before the end of shift, especially with all the double time he'd been pulling recently. John Sheridan had an almost obsessive attention to duty - one of the things they had in common, and one of the reasons they got on so well, at least in her mind. For him to skip or even swap out a duty shift was unusual enough to get her interest piqued.

_Hard-assed_, Stephen had called him. Now there was someone with an obsession to duty, and even he had time to notice how John's attitude had tightened up over the last months. Michael, though, had called him _a tactical thinker_, and that was also true. Unlike Stephen, John did know when to slow up, even if he didn't pay attention until that moment was at least few hundred yards back down the track.

So maybe there was nothing to worry about. Maybe there was a perfectly innocent reason for him to be...

...wandering into his bedroom, mumbling to himself under his breath, and - it sounded like - kicking his shoes against the side of the bed. She heard the ever-familiar snap of uniform fastenings and a moment later, the careless roll of a dresser drawer opening and then being shoved closed.

It wasn't, in fact, an absolute surprise to find her mind filling in what her eyes couldn't catch in sight, or considering the rustle of fabric and the sounds of him moving around those few feet away. She'd known John for nearly ten years now off and on, for God's sakes, it would have been impossible not to realise in all that time that under all that Earthforce professionalism and boyish charm he happened to be a damned handsome guy too. And they'd certainly served together enough that she had a few moments of reality on which to base her fleeting imaginations: turning around as they talked in the pilots' locker room, belatedly noticing his broad bare chest and just as quickly dismissing it; watching him straighten his dress greys with a pout on his lips as he tugged the belt into place; he'd probably not changed that much since they'd served together on Io, either, unlike her - he'd been in his mid-thirties when he took that command and already as fit as he was ever going to be, especially to a new Lieutenant barely into her twenties with her father's influence still a heavy weight across her shoulders.

Yes, John would be stretching out slowly, peeling off his jacket and shirt, revealing the length of his naked back for a short minute while he hunted around for a t-shirt. He'd have found one in the drawer, be yanking it down over his head, flexing his shoulders, muscles shifting, starting to relax...

She swallowed. It felt a little tight. She wasn't going to admit yet that this had been a stupid idea, but she was willing to join the table with a bet of slight, rather heated unease.

He'd kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, and - yes, that was the sound of a belt buckle, as he'd be shucking out of his uniform pants, maybe grabbing a pair of slacks or pyjama pants instead... the latter definitely, if she was unlucky enough that he was home for the night. If he felt anything close to the way she'd been feeling when she hit the end of a duty shift recently, any spare evening came in three simple flavors: bed, book and vid, pretty usually in combination.

Then she heard another drawer open, a little way closer to her this time, and some sort of rattling, searching noise before it rolled shut again and she heard Sheridan sigh loudly.

Something in her tingled at the odd tone to that sigh, and she screwed her eyes shut in realisation. Of course, there was always the fourth option, if one had the energy.

_Oh, hell._ Well, that complicated things a bit more than she'd have liked. She should have expected it, she thought darkly. Her karma was never good enough for something like this to work out well.

About her best option right now was probably to stay in here until he finished up and hopefully dozed or found himself otherwise occupied, giving her the opening to go with her rather shaky second plan - the one that came after _don't get caught in the act_ \- with the minimum of embarrassment. He'd never have to know she knew what he'd been up to 'before' she came in. It would obviously be a good thing if he didn't know that she'd imagined him half naked and stretched across the length of his couch, or that she'd wondered how he did it, how fast, how hard-

Ivanova swallowed stiffly and rubbed her palms quickly against her thighs. She wasn't sweating, it was just hot in here.

Right.

Of course, she considered, sitting there waiting, she did have the perfect opportunity right now: if she caught him at the right... moment... he'd definitely be distracted enough that he wouldn't have noticed her let herself in right in front of him even if she _had_.

And a little embarrassment would be worth the chance to escape with her life, her sanity and her little prank still undiscovered.

She counted out the minutes in her head, imagining the scene in the other room. He probably wasn't rushing himself; knowing him, she could take a pretty good guess at that. Not that he'd take a long time: he'd be confident, knowing what he wanted, he'd go after it with a singular kind of passion, but he'd enjoy the ride. His hands would probably be sure but slow, through his clothes most likely but not under them yet, turning himself on first. Enjoying the ride. He'd turn off the news feed, or perhaps just mute it if he felt particularly rebellious today, and then the link would come off - but not far away, she knew that. Duty never was far away, these days.

She straightened up and stood slowly, trying to ignore the damp fingerprints she left on his bathroom wall. Just hot in here, that was all.

There was just enough space for her to slip out of the bathroom door and into a shadowed corner of the bedroom without chancing to knock anything over, or cast her own shadow anywhere that - should she have misread the situation completely - he might catch sight of the movement and come to check it out. For someone with such an apparently unending well of innocence in his soul, the Captain was an uncommonly suspicious mind about things that went bump in the darkness. It was almost Russian of him, actually. Under a normal situation, she'd have been pleased with the notion, even complimentary: right now, though, she hoped to hell he was feeling lazy about his personal safety, at least for the next five minutes.

The bedroom door was halfway open; he'd not bothered to draw it shut all the way on his way out and light spilled in from the other room, falling in a wide beam across his uniform draped on the end of the bed. Susan drew in her breath slowly, put her back to the wall and glanced out around the edge of the bedroom door.

She knew the basic layout of John's quarters, so she was quite aware that in looking, she risked catching sight of him. Still, the image in front of her wasn't the kind of thing any heterosexually-inclined woman could prepare for with equanimity, especially if they happened to be Human and possessed of a functioning pulse. And the lights were up full, so she had a crystal clear view...

...of John Sheridan, lying along the length of his couch the way she'd imagined, facing away from her and toward the door, wearing a close-fitting t-shirt and slacks without a belt, his link discarded on the coffee table. His bare feet were pushed against the end of the couch, one knee cocked out and the other drawn up comfortably, one hand lying deliberately over the distinct bulge in his crotch as he shifted his hips around a little way and made a quiet sound. She watched his hand shift, squeeze a little, heard him clear his throat absently.

Her pulse, which appeared to be functioning perfectly right now, started to thud in her ears. She'd imagined he'd be much further along than this right now. She did not need to add the knowledge of this kind of patience to the bright sketch of him in her head.

She didn't realise she hadn't been breathing until she saw his hips arch, both hands coming to work at his waist and drag his pants down. No shorts, of course. They were probably under his uniform, three feet behind her back. She pressed her fingers together, hard.

Breath came back as he closed his hand around his cock, and even while she was remembering why she needed oxygen, Ivanova suppressed a sharp twinge of disappointment at not catching a good look before he did that.

_But John has pretty big hands, and - god -_

Damn it, she was not thinking about that! Just because she could see the slickness of lube catching the light across the back of his hand, just because the head of his cock strained up clearly and glistening from between his closed fingers...

A flicker of movement caught the corner of her eye: she glanced sideways sharply, instantly alert, and then she blinked in surprise. He was watching something on the vid; it was quiet enough that she hadn't noticed it before and couldn't tell what. At least, she couldn't until she concentrated, and the image came into sharper focus, and until John added to the clarity of the moment with a low, shuddering groan.

_Oh boy._

Who was she kidding - this was not the situation she wanted to be in. And when the hell had it gotten this damned hot in here?

Okay, so it wasn't like she'd sneaked in here for the express purpose of watching her commanding officer jerk himself off to some - pretty bad, from where she was standing - porn, but that didn't change the fact that she really shouldn't be seeing it. Hell, she shouldn't _have_ to see it. There were some things about one's CO that you just _didn't need to know_, fairly high up among them the contents of his bedside drawer and what he sounded like with his own hand wrapped around his cock, both of which she could now strike off the list.

But _god damn_, he sounded sexy. Her traitorous mind floated that into the equation. It had been months since she'd felt like even wanting to want sex, ever since... but right now the sound and the sight of him in front of her was quite effectively rounding those malingering hormones up and beating them into action, and she remembered how to _want_ entirely too well.

Of course there'd never been anything more than the briefest frisson of chemistry between them, or at least she'd thought so until now. Right now she was imagining all the times she'd found herself touching him - her hand briefly on his arm or his shoulder, stepping close or past him and feeling the warmth of his body close up to hers, even for the briefest instant -

He groaned again, softer this time, and heat slithered down the length of her spine to pool directly in her groin. The sounds he made... She realised that she was waiting for a name to slip between those grunts and breathless noises. Did he have anyone in mind? Was he thinking of Anna still, or were his fantasies of Delenn, half-alien and half-familiar and all enticing? Hell, maybe it was the cute med tech from this morning's mess, or maybe he wasn't thinking like that at all; maybe it was Michael's hand, from behind John's eyes, or Marcus', or god knew who else that she'd never even met or considered might be his type.

Insanely, in a not so tiny part of her self, right now she wanted the name that wasn't going to pass his lips to be hers.

She saw his eyes close as he arched his head back and yanked his hand from his groin with a sudden growl of desperation: he was clenching both hands against the couch, the vid forgotten, and she briefly forgot to breathe again at the look on his face. She never saw John like this: private, selfish, unguarded...

She didn't expect him to hear her as she slipped around the door and crossed the room, as smooth and quiet on her feet as if she'd held a PPG in her hand and not just the most crazy of ideas in her mind. His eyes were still closed when she stood over him, his breath shallow and ragged as he dug fingers tightly into the cushion beneath him and writhed his hips, fighting himself for control, for release -

She reached out, no longer quite convinced she was even in control of her own self let alone her own body, and stroked her hand lightly, slowly, down the thin fabric of his t-shirt, stopping through sheer force of will just above his naked skin.

His entire body jerked in response - an obvious spark of pure arousal at the unexpected adrenaline rush of someone's touch, and his eyes flew open to stare up into hers. She saw recognition strike him only a moment before shock took hold, and then he choked in a breath, looking at her like she'd gone mad.

"_Susan?!_"

"Shh." She pushed against the couch and straddled him, reaching the other hand up to put two fingers to his lips. "No talking."

"What are you doing here?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice incredulous. "What are you doing?! My god, Susan, what the hell...."

"Watching you." She didn't have the mental capacity to try and lie. "Standing there. _Watching you._ That's what I'm doing here."

Despite his tone, his eyes flared heated darkness at that, and she heard the low rumble of him trying to suppress a moan. "For how long?"

"Since you came in," she whispered honestly, beyond really caring how to explain it. "I was worried about you not being on duty when you should. It's not like you," and even though she was sure he could hear the lie, she'd never really intended it to stand up to this kind of situation.

"Swapped out with Atambe for the evening," he said, sounding distracted and more than a little ragged at the edges. "You were seriously worried," and that was just disbelief put into words.

"No," she said. Then, even more honestly now, in her own slow realisation, "Yes. For a minute there, actually. Yes."

He shook his head, dazed, incredulity in his eyes. "What are you _doing_ here, Susan?"

She sighed. "Reprogramming your shower," she admitted simply, and tipped her head and leaned down and kissed him on the mouth.

He kissed her back. She hadn't expected that, and it surprised her enough that she was still adjusting to the sensation when he seemed to come to his senses and jerked his head away. The loss of the heat of his mouth on hers was almost painful, and she bit her tongue to keep from showing it.

"_Susan_," he said. "God, stop... what the - what are you doing?"

"I thought it was fairly obvious," she said.

His eyes were wild, helpless, and smouldering with barely restrained need. "I meant, what are you _doing_. Damn, Susan, have you gone insane? I'm your commanding officer, hell, I'm your friend-"

Both of those things were true, she told herself. Two rational, glaring reasons why this was A Bad Idea - and not only A Bad Idea, in point of fact, but her biggest Bad Idea of the last thirteen years, if not before that.

Maybe she had gone insane, she reflected. It wasn't like she hadn't expected it sooner or later.

"Susan," he said again, softer, more desperate, and put his hands on her arms to push her away... except he didn't. He just looked at her, desperately, confusion standing out in her eyes. "Look, it's - it's been a long week, I don't blame you for... but this is ridiculous, we can't... you have to - move, damn it..."

His voice was shrinking, falling back; and she was falling with it, closer to him, pressing into his hands still on her arms, the radiating heat of him underneath her hips.

"Keep this up, John," she murmured almost into his mouth, "and I'm going to start realising you don't want me."

He looked into her eyes then, and then put his hand very deliberately on her hip. His thumb rubbed slowly down to the very edge of her thigh, and his other hand reached up past her cheek to touch her hair with the tips of his fingers, and his eyes were suddenly so dark as he lifted his head a little way...

"Don't think that," he breathed back, and pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

It was like a lightning storm going off behind her eyes - the pure desperate intensity of it, of his hands suddenly roaming her body - hot, searching, grasping at her, at _her_, because she was _here_, and his sudden _need_ sent her reeling, blinded by the shock of feeling it burn into her, too. She gasped into his mouth and kissed him fiercely, tasting his sharp growl as her fingers pushed under his t-shirt and touched him, stroked his chest and dug deep scratches in his arm, both.

He wanted her. Badly enough that the feeling crashed through whatever dullness usually surrounded her mind and laid him bare in front of her, beneath her, around her. This close she had no barriers and no thought of needing them, not expecting to _feel_ anything from the man she'd thought was only her best, trusted friend.

"Susan," he groaned into her mouth. "Susan - stop - god, I need... I need you to stop, I need you to _stop_..."

"No," she whispered back, broken by it. "No, no, you don't..."

"I do." She could taste the heat of his breath on her lips as he pushed her away, but only a little and only enough to speak. "If you don't stop _right now_ I-"

She knew what he was about to confess - she was half convinced she couldn't not know it - and just kissed him again, but far softer, her lips barely grazing his own, letting her voice caress him when she whispered into his mouth, "Then don't let me stop you."

Fire flashed in John's eyes, close enough for her to feel the heat of it. He groaned.

"Oh, hell..."

"Do you want me to help you?" She kissed him, closed her teeth briefly around his lower lip and heard him whimper, god...

Suddenly his hands were on her hips and stroking up, over her waist, her stomach, gliding around the curves of her breasts and she sucked in a breath sharply from his mouth, arching toward him, even as his touch carried on and moved up to caress her bare skin, slide against her cheek and push back her hair and then he was holding her face in his hands, holding her away from him for the single reason of looking into her eyes.

"You don't need to do a damned thing," he assured her, a rough-edged voice she'd never heard from him before, "to help me, I can absolutely promise you that."

She smiled at that, amazed. "Yeah?"

His eyes flickered closed at the low shiver of her voice. "God, Susan."

"John." Her own body didn't feel too steady, and she felt like her skin was burning, and she'd never noticed before how bright his eyes could be. "I didn't mean you to stop," she whispered.

He shifted underneath her and growled under his breath. "You're going to kill me."

"I hope not." She leaned close to him and offered him a wicked smile. "The paperwork for this would be a real pain in the ass."

John laughed, then, ragged but very genuine, and as he closed his eyes and arched back, she lowered her head and pressed a hot, wet kiss to the base of his throat. Laughter dissolved into a groan under her lips; she slipped the tip of her tongue out against his skin, tasting him, and her instant reward was his hips arching, his hand tightening reflexively on her shoulder as he pushed the other back down between them.

He felt so good, damn... she'd never expected this, never thought about it for even as many minutes as she'd been doing it now. This was John, her captain, her friend, and his warmth beneath her felt utterly right, which only went to prove the relative madness of the universe. He was stroking his hand down her side again, barely paying attention, and a sudden moan escaped her lips when she shifted one knee on the couch and was suddenly aware of his other hand right there, closed around his cock, jerking tightly, the back of his wrist brushing against her as she moved and he moved and _oh_ -

This time when his desire pushed through her she leaned into it, played it, spreading her hands on his back beneath his shirt and biting gently at his shoulder and purring low in her throat. John's fingers clenched and spasmed against the curve of her waist: she felt his hips arch and jerk and thrust against her, his own hand wrapped hard around the head of his cock and for a brief moment his knuckles pressed up between her legs, making her breath catch - and he choked back a coarse shout and came hard, shaking underneath her and gasping something incomprehensible in her ear. And he didn't stop, just kept moving as it overtook him, long jerks and rolls of his hips that seemed to take in his whole body: eventually he arched his head back against the couch, gasping, and all the time his other hand burned her skin as she watched him come.

Long minutes later, when she felt the shudders begin to stop and John's heartbeat slow to something less than light speed, Susan closed her eyes against the sanity threatening to overtake her and slowly, carefully, tried to let herself relax against him. There was a sharp intake of breath in her ear as she lowered her hips to his; she smiled, feeling crazy for doing it, for how good it was to feel the thick stickiness on his fingers and between his legs as he moved around under her.

"Susan," he murmured, sounding more than slightly dazed. She swallowed, not looking up. She wasn't sure she dared.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

"Susan," he said again. Softer, this time, even still breathless. "Susan?"

"I think there are still some words in the world besides my name," she said quietly, trying to ignore the sound of herself talking.

John chuckled. "I don't know, I think I've forgotten most of them." His hand pressed, gentler now, onto her back. "Susan..."

"I felt you," she whispered hoarsely, wondering why she was saying it.

He turned his head to her. "What?"

"That. I felt that." This was the moment when she should look up at him, except she couldn't make herself do it, afraid that sanity would take over any second now if she did. "You... wanting me," she said instead, in a low voice against his shoulder.

She didn't need to look up at him, though, not for him to realise what she meant. She heard that much in his voice when he spoke, a very long moment later. "Oh, Susan. I didn't-"

"I'm sorry," she said.

There was a pause, then his voice a lot closer to her ear and his breath grazing her cheek. "I was about to say that myself. Are you?"

She didn't think she was, insanely. And she was fairly sure he wasn't either, or sure enough that she lifted her head and with one hand pushed her hair back from her face to look at him.

His eyes were clear, unguarded, and he looked at her evenly as she levelled her gaze to his. She took a breath, wondering if it was still physically possibly to speak while looking him in the eyes. "No, I'm not," she said, softly.

"I didn't think so. You don't usually do things you don't mean."

"I'm not sure I know what I am doing."

"As long as you like doing it, I'm sure we can work that part out." He raised one eyebrow. "You were reprogramming my _shower_?"

She laughed, suddenly embarrassed. "It's an old prank I learned when I was a cadet. Don't worry, I didn't get finished. I seem to have been... distracted."

John smiled, although she thought she saw a little hint of playful unease in his expression that said he was definitely making her shower first in the morning, just in case -

She looked away from him suddenly at thinking that, her face flaming. _What am I thinking? This is _John_, I am not going to bed with John_. Except for the small issue of having just enjoyed giving him the best orgasm she'd been witness to for a long time, that denial worked perfectly.

He was looking at her again, she could feel it. His fingertips, thoughtfully dry, touched her chin and moved her head back to look at him.

"You could really feel that?" he asked. He even sounded hesitant, and curious, and something else she couldn't, didn't want to place. "Me... that feeling?"

She wasn't wholly convinced that she could say it out loud, looking at him, until she heard the admission come from her own lips. "Yes."

"I'm sorry," he said, more honestly this time. "If you didn't want that."

"I..." She closed her eyes, shook her head. "I'm not sure. It's not something that happens all that often."

Without an answer for that, he lifted his head and kissed her, then, and she was glad she wasn't in any position to fall over. The tenderness in his touch alone would have floored her, she was certain.

"John..." For a moment she didn't dare open her eyes again. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." He paused. "Of course, it was completely-"

She lifted her head to look him in the eyes.

"-the wrong thing," he finished in a single breath, leaning toward her, and tangled his hand in her hair to pull her forward into a second kiss.

_Oh..._ Damn, he kissed well, she'd admit that without any kind of coercion whatsoever. Hot and slow and sure, and to think she'd been ignoring the possibility of this for over a year. Either she was crazy now or she'd just finally hit the point of sanity, she wasn't sure which.

She was breathing sharply when he finally let her break away from his mouth, her skin feeling flushed and heat knotted in her stomach. And John was smiling at her, just a little.

"You don't have to do this, either, you know," he said.

She snorted. "Out of interest, are you blind or just trying to be funny?"

A grin crept onto his lips and she saw that brightness in his eyes again. "Well, now that we've settled that."

She leaned back from him and pushed herself up to stand and watch him sit up. After a moment - was he _blushing?_ \- John simply kicked his pants off completely into a crumpled pile at the foot of the couch, and stripped off his t-shirt with a smooth motion as he stood up.

It took her a second to realise that she wasn't moving, caught off-guard by the suddenness of a completely nude John Sheridan inches in front of her.

It wasn't quite as if, having time to expect it, she'd have had no idea at all what to imagine: it was just very different to be standing there allowing her gaze to roam over his skin with the unspoken permission to touch, and the equally unspoken anticipation of touching. There was a pale scar on the front of his shoulder that she mentally placed into a particularly raucous story from one night in Earharts'; a darker slash of scar tissue low on his stomach that she remembered from a more sombre discussion on an old anniversary, the two of them drinking a quiet toast to Ganya. John had a soldier's musculature that made her hands itch to run across his skin, her mouth burn to trace the lines of his body with her tongue...

When she blinked he was watching her, even looking slightly unnerved. She wondered how many seconds exactly she'd been silent. More than that, she wondered what she should be saying right about now. There wasn't written protocol in the Earthforce manual for sleeping with your commanding officer, or it was very well hidden if there was. She was mostly sure there wasn't.

"Pass inspection?" he teased. She smiled at the slight tremor in his voice.

"Damn, John." Why he was the one naked and she was the one feeling embarrassed she had no idea. "You're making me feel a little overdressed here."

He chuckled suggestively. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think we should fix that."

She grinned and followed him, fingers lightly between his, back through into the bedroom.

John swept his uniform off the bed and onto a chair while she seated herself near the pillows and watched, then turned under her scrutiny to reach for the bedside drawer, the same one she'd heard him dip into earlier.

"Do you need me to..." He gestured.

She smiled and shook her head. "Implant. It's fine."

"If you're sure." But he turned away from the bedside table anyway. Her smile widened a little.

"Oh, I think you're trustworthy enough."

John winced dryly. "If you mean a run down of my recent sex life would be painfully embarrassing for all concerned, then thanks for the discretion."

"I try." Her smile dimmed at the thought, realising she should tell him. "John... I slept with Talia."

"I know." It was him smiling gently now at her surprise. "I didn't, at the time, but you're not always as unreadable as you think you are. I've noticed a few little things, since she's been... gone."

She swallowed, feeling tears burn briefly behind her eyes. "John-"

"Don't give up." He knelt in front of her, took one of her hands in both of his and pushed his fingers between her own, clasping her hand tightly. "You know I know how hard it is. Trust me. I know how it feels to get burned, but don't give up on your heart. Please."

She smiled painfully and leaned forward to kiss him rather than answer that. He smiled back against her lips and pushed himself up, easing her back onto the bed beneath him. His hands slipped under her loose shirt, roaming her skin, and she sucked in a breath.

"Mm." She definitely felt overdressed. "Come on, help me out here."

He edged fingertips under the fabric of her bra against her back and smiled wolfishly into her mouth. "With pleasure."

She breathed out a laugh that swiftly turned into a moan, as he found the catch and pushed her bra up, beneath her shirt, one hand curving around to taste the weight of her breast against his palm even as the other moved down again to lift her shirt out of the way. He murmured her name again, sounding not entirely steady in his own mind, and then she gasped as his thumb grazed the tip of her nipple, just so slightly. A moment later he had her shirt off over her head and her skin was prickling in the darkness under his gaze. Then he lowered his head and took that same nipple in his mouth, flicking around it with his tongue, and she swore viciously between her teeth at the sudden shock of pleasure.

"_Bozhe moy_, John, god... mmm, that's good..."

He hummed a reply: she groaned and rocked her hips under him, trying to get her own hands past his caress long enough to finish what he'd started before becoming so goddamn wonderfully distracted. She was even halfway to having her pants undone before he shifted his knees either side of hers and nudged her hand out of the way to finish the job himself.

Finally naked, she laughed under her breath and let her eyes close for a moment, enjoying the attention. "Mmm. You didn't look this impatient out there."

He broke his attention from her nipple for a moment to look up at her, briefly seeming uncertain when she opened her eyes again. "We can slow down," he said. She snorted and pushed her thigh up against his hand.

"And that's what you think I want?"

His grin was pure, fiery pleasure. Without a warning, he slipped his fingers down between her legs and cupped his palm over her sex, and she saw heat flash in his eyes at the wetness under his fingers. "Mm, no, I think I've got a pretty good idea of what you want."

She pushed up into his hand, growling in her throat. "Mmm... if you think I want you, then I'd say you've nailed it. No pun intended."

Rueful apology replaced the look in his eyes for a moment. "If that's what you want, we do need to slow down for a while."

She grinned, growled again and thrust her hips up at just the right angle to rub herself against the length of his fingers. "Hmmm..." Hell, that felt good, a strong, firm hand not hers right there. "What happened to that tactical imagination you're so famous for?"

"You," he muttered, a grin on his lips again, and she laughed until she felt him crook one finger and ease into her. Then she groaned, her voice breaking.

"John." Oh, this had to be one of her better ideas ever. He thrust slowly, drawing out almost completely and then - "Oh," and her breath caught as he added a second finger.

"Tell me if that's too much," he said, his voice close to her ear. She twisted her hips, fighting for him to go deeper.

"It's not _enough_, damn it - oh _fuck_, John," and she didn't remember the last time she'd heard herself groan as loudly as she did then when he pushed three fingers inside her, right to the hilt. "Yes," she hissed, breathless at the suddenness of it. "Yes, _oh_-" He moved his hand, starting to thrust harder, and she wanted to cry out at how good it felt. "Yes, yes, yes..."

He caught her earlobe briefly between his teeth, then whispered in her ear. "That's good?"

She'd have laughed, but that required breathing first. "What do _you_ think?"

"I think you feel incredible." He stroked his thumb up, slowly, pushing apart her folds, seeking her clit; her skin flashed heat and her body jerked and she growled, pushing back toward his touch. He let up, drawing away just enough to be too far; she whimpered, hips sinking into the bed, and he slid his touch back up, rubbing lightly just beneath her clit and only until she pressed up to him before pulling away again.

"John," she gasped, digging her fingers into his back. "Oh, god..."

"I can't believe I've never told you how sexy you are," he breathed into her ear, and she closed her eyes and moaned softly in her throat.

"God, John."

"Keep calling me that and it'll start going to my head," he teased, circling her clit again. She laughed breathlessly.

"Keep - _mmm_ \- keep doing that and," she bit her lip, thrusting her hips against his hand, "_oh_ \- and you'll deserve it -"

He smiled mischievously at her. "You like that?"

She reached down and covered his hand with her own, holding his thumb in place and pressing his fingers in harder. "Stupid question," she said. He grinned and responded to the pressure of her hand: a little at first, just gentle circles, and then harder, faster, when she moaned more loudly and writhed into his palm.

"Tell me," he whispered. "Don't want to hurt you-"

"I won't break," she hissed at him, straining into his touch. "John-"

"Damn it, I know that," he muttered back, cutting her off with a fast kiss that was barely a graze of his mouth against her own, the words muttered over her lips. "I want to know what you like, Susan..."

She closed her eyes, suddenly trembling at the rough honesty in his voice. "Just... you're doing just great," she managed to get out, rocking her hips again as his thumb slid wetly across her clit. "Oh, you can - do that a little harder - _yes_, there, _yes_," as he responded to her breathless request. "Please..." She scratched her fingernails down his back, feeling the pull and flex of muscles under her hand as he moved with her. A sob caught in her throat. "Please - John - please I need this, I need you-"

He laughed, a rough, dark, pleased sound that pulled at her heart and her sex in just about equal measure. "Got me right here," he murmured against her hair, and then she could feel his other hand press into the small of her back and arch her up to him, push her still harder into his hand, onto his fingers buried deeply inside her. She moaned helplessly, writhing between his hands, aching for more with no idea if she could even take it. "Close?" he whispered, and she nodded sharply and dug her fingers into the taut muscle of his shoulder in answer.

Then he was looking down at her, directly into her eyes, and she was so close and oh god, that raw _want_ in him...

"Come for me, Susan," he murmured into her mouth - and kissed her, with all the softness missing from his rough hands on her body, and she gasped and thrust and screamed into his mouth and came hard around his hand in a slick, shuddering rush of pleasure that radiated out to strike fire up her spine, making her shake with release. Everything disappeared but the feeling of him, the sense of him, the unrelenting pressure of him on her and inside her and pushing back against the flex of her muscles around his fingers, making her scream all over again at the intensity of it. "_John_ \- yes, _yes_ oh yes oh god, _John!_"

He laughed with a kind of open delight and held her as the orgasm rocked through her, a completely unexpected anchor that she clung to fiercely as she rode it out, her whole body shuddering. She had no idea how many minutes later the room came back in a buzzing haze of sensation: she knew that John was pressed against her, the weight of his body a sensual relief, the light from the other room pouring across his back and his fingers still inside her... She heard someone whimpering, a half-coherent mumble of words, and realised after a moment that it was her own voice gasping muffled Russian into John's shoulder.

"What?" he was murmuring, sounding like he'd been asking it already, a gentle question that held the sound of pleased laughter and something far more that made her chest tighten. "Susan, I can't understand you," he said, but sounding happy all the same. "Any chance that was as good as it looked?"

She pressed her forehead against the curve of his shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to round up at least two remaining brain cells long enough to remember English. "John... my god, John... _dobrozhyelatyel'_," she murmured helplessly, her mind slipping over the sensation of him still inside her, the best word she could think to describe the feeling of him right now. Insane, beautifully insane, that she'd never thought of him like this until now - that he could be friend and lover both, sexy and raw and tender, the perfect choice. _And hell, what a choice._ "That was... pretty damn incredible," she said shakily.

"Yeah?" He was grinning, she could hear it in his voice. She laughed.

"Hell, yes."

"Good." Softer this time. She swallowed at the emotion in it.

"You're still inside me," she murmured, her voice catching.

"Yeah." His own was even softer now. "Feel good?"

"Yes." He moved his fingers experimentally, slipping further into her: she shuddered. "Oh, don't." She lifted her head and searched for his gaze. "Don't, I can't..."

John lowered his head and kissed her mouth tenderly then: she groaned, and he swallowed the sound in a luxuriously long kiss, as he gently withdrew his hand from inside her. Her body tightened at the loss, clenching and arching her hips, and she was grateful for the way he stretched against her and skilfully distracted her with a slow thrust of his tongue into her mouth.

"Mmmm..." Much as she could have drowned in the taste of him, after a long few minutes, Susan had to tear herself away and try to remember how to breathe. It was a surprisingly difficult procedure, and one she marvelled at having once under normal circumstances achieved with very little thought whatsoever. It definitely seemed to be requiring a lot of concentration now.

"You're beautiful," John said then, and what little composure she had escaped her at the unexpected sincerity in his eyes, in his touch on her cheek. "Incredible," he whispered in a thick voice. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Of all the things you could come up with right now, thanking me is not high on the list of necessities."

He chuckled, and pushed her hair back against the pillows under her head. "Do you want to stay tonight?"

"Try and get rid of me," she said, stroking her hand down the warm length of his back. He made a sound low in his throat, almost a growl, and arched into her caress.

"Hm. Not a chance."

"Good." And what the hell, if she happened to snarl that a little more fiercely than perhaps would be correct after having most of your commanding officer's hand buried inside you, she figured she was probably as safe from being reported as she was about to be. "I hate to ask, being the uninvited guest here, but you're going to have to move," she said more softly. "Not that this isn't..."

He cut off the end of that sentence with a kiss, and somehow managed to roll them both sideways and hook one thigh over hers without breaking away from her mouth. When he let her breathe again she was pressed lightly against him, one knee between his, his chest rising and falling heavily against her breasts, his eyes half-lidded and watching her.

"I never thought of doing this with you," he murmured. He sounded amazed at himself. She couldn't exactly fault him for that.

"That makes two of us," she admitted. Then, mischievously, because what the hell, she may as well do her best to embarrass him, "Not that I haven't noticed you, I mean, you're a very handsome specimen."

Far from embarrassment, his voice was very gentle then, as if he thought he might spook her or something with the words that came next. "I meant, I never thought of really doing this with you."

A small part of her mind wondered what it was with things backfiring on her today, and also suggested that now might be about the time to withdraw from the battle before she lost any more karma. "Oh," she said, because there wasn't much more to say. "Um, thank you, I think?"

"Not necessary," he said, and smiled. "Why don't we just both agree to be grateful and leave it at that?"

"Sounds good to me." His shoulder was pretty comfortable as a pillow. She stretched her arm across his chest, idly running her fingertip down the line of one rib. "One thing I don't quite understand," she said absently after a minute or two.

"Mm?"

"Don't tell me your vid collection doesn't stretch any further than amateur work."

John was silent, hesitating, then sighed. "You saw that."

"Yes, yes I did."

"It was," he said. "Amateur, I mean."

She raised an eyebrow at his tone. "Really."

"Don't make an issue of it," he protested, now sounding suddenly embarrassed. Susan smirked wickedly.

"That was _you?_!"

His blushing silence answered that pretty firmly. She propped her head up on her hand, interested. "John, you dog. I had no idea."

"You have no idea how relieved that makes me."

She laughed, tracing her fingers over his chest. "You obviously knew her, then."

He chuckled wryly. "You could say that. I married her once, for about six weeks."

It took a moment to take that in. _Before Anna, then,_ she thought but didn't say. _Wonder what happened there._ "Ah. So I remind you of her, is that it?"

She'd kept her voice light: _would it be so bad if you did?_ part of wanted to know, although the rest of her refused to think about the answer. Still, when he answered her, he only mumbled something she didn't hear. She tilted her head.

"What?"

"Not it, no," he repeated, and looked back into her eyes. "Watching her reminded me of you."

She blushed furiously. Oh. "From what I managed to catch, I'm far better than that," she said archly, mainly for something to say that didn't sound utterly ungrateful and on top of that, ridiculous.

John only laughed. "Yeah, you are."

And she hadn't thought she could want to blush any more. "Thank you." A thought occurred to her, then: she smiled mischievously. There were better ways to get even with John Sheridan than cold showers, after all. _Who'd have guessed?_ "Turn on the BabCom camera."

He choked. "What?!"

"You shouldn't have to put up with sub-standard merchandise," she teased. "After the fun we just had I'd hate to think you were stuck watching twenty-year-old vids of your ex-wife - although from what I saw, you were putting in a fairly decent performance."

"For a cadet of twenty, you mean," he added, deadpan. Her eyes sparkled as she forced a straight face.

"Did I say that? Did I even mention that?"

Sheridan chuckled, shaking his head at her in amusement. Then, very deliberately, he lifted his head and reached out for the bedside table. A moment later and an image of the two of them, mirrored in the odd angle of the camera's eye, appeared on the bedroom vid screen.

Susan smiled, arched her back a little and lifted her head to kiss him again. One of the other things about Babylon 5 was that some things were actually far simpler than you'd ever realised, it just seemed to take a hell of a long time to figure them out.

  


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